24 Hours
by TheBonesThatSpeak
Summary: Takes place between episodes 1 and 2 of season five. // When the bodies of several performers are discovered at a local Renassaince faire, Booth and Brennan dive into a world of conspiracy and murder in order to save the life of one of their own. // BxB
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, period. FOX does. No copyright infringement Virginia Renaissance Festival (not to be mistaken for the real-life Virginia Renaissance Faire) is fictional. I don't claim to be the creator of any fictitious Maryland Renaissance Festival. It's basically the real one, only all staff/owners described in fanfic are fictional. Maryland Renaissance Festival is copyright to its **_**real **_**owner(s).**_

_**Author's Note: This is the first segment of the first fanfiction series I've ever written! (-: Enjoy and please, please, please review! Thankies, and happy reading.**_

**Prologue**

Delicate silken banners rippled proudly in the gentle autumn breeze, heralding the entrance to the lively annual Virginia Renaissance Festival. Laughter, music, and pleasant smells emanated from within the labyrinth of tents and displays. Radiant smiles and flashy costumes lit up the fair in spite of the gray clouds that hovered threateningly above. In the midst of the calm, however, a frightened scream shattered the peace.

Heads turned and jaws dropped, but there was a strange silence that overcame the on-lookers. Their stares were directed at the sight of a dog, tail a-wag, holding what looked like a human bone between his parted jaws. He held it up to his disgusted owner, who fought the urge to vomit. Chunks of skin and flesh still clung to the bone, and much of its exposed white surface was caked with scarlet.

The silence was broken by a shaken speaker. "Please tell me that's an early Halloween prop."

"That's not a fake," somebody else whispered, almost inaudibly. Louder, he said, "Call the cops."

There was no need for instruction; at least a dozen people were already screaming into their cellular phones. Carefully, the dog's owner pried the bone from his maw, face pale, before doubling over and emptying his stomach of its half-digested contents.

At that point, the gruesome spectacle had drawn an audience. Some were wide-eyed in utter shock, others were unable to look, and still others were too curious to tear their gazes away. Confused, the dog cocked his head and whined, tongue lolling.

On the sidelines, a man melted into the shadows between the stands, expression grim.

A heavy rain was pelting the ground by the time FBI officials arrived, and the festival had been closed down. After a brief search, a team with sniffer dogs exhumed the rest of the body that the leg bone belonged to. The dog who had apparently taken to snacking on the flesh was crated until he could supply them with excrement to analyze.

A large black car pulled up nearby, announcing the arrival of the two investigators. They jumped out into the downpour and trotted briskly towards the police that beckoned.

Ducking under the yellow tape that boxed in the crime scene, agent Seeley Booth announced, "I never liked the Renaissance Festival. Too many clowns."

"There actually aren't too many," his partner, Temperance Brennan, replied in her usual frank mannerism. She narrowed her ghostly blue orbs against the stinging rain and shuffled closer to Booth's side. "Just a lot of people dressed like them. If you ask me, any such attire is completely unnecessary to express one's exuberance for the time period. Really, why would anybody want to wear corsets or armor for fun? If anything, it's stupid."

Booth grinned, lifting the tarp that protected the body. "Subjective, aren't we, Bones?"

"Is that a bad thing?" Brennan countered, kneeling beside a mound of freshly-turned earth. She peered into the adjacent pit, turning on her flashlight. "The victim is male, Caucasian, probably in his early thirties. After photographs of the site are taken, I'll need these bones taken back to the lab."

She shifted her weight onto her right side and leaned in further. "He can't have been dead more than three or four days, judging by the progression of decay."

Wrinkling his nose, Booth added, "Not to mention the smell."

Brennan almost laughed, but she contained herself and examined the body closely. After ten minutes running her hands over the corpse and taking small samples of tissue, she said, "The cause of death is yet to be determined, but I think it's safe to assume that this is the thing that did it."

With a pair of tweezers, she gingerly removed a bullet from inside the gaping jaws of the skull that were forever frozen in a scream. Booth accepted it and held the entity up to his face. "Definitely from a hunting rifle."

"Who could walk through the Renaissance Festival with a rifle and not be noticed? It's chronologically displaced, and would perturb pretty much anyone in the general public."

"I don't know, Bones," Booth sighed, brows furrowed. He helped her up, and then proceeded to wrap an arm around her as though he could protect her from the pouring rain. "I just don't know."

Brennan leaned her head tiredly on his shoulder and let him steer her back to the vehicle. All she wanted was to be someplace warm and dry, and for the damn case to solve itself. _I need a vacation, _she thought.

_**In case you're curious, this fanfic takes place between the first and second episodes of season 5. Chapter 1 coming soon!**_


	2. Chapter 1: Renaissance Clown

_**A/N: Here is the long-awaited first chapter of my fanfic. My apologies for not publishing it sooner, but I'm afraid my life just went through a bit of turmoil. Anyway, everything is back to normal now and I am back on the writing track. =)**_

_**Again, I don't own BONES or the MD Rennaissance Festival, blah blah blah, both are copyright to respective owners, yadda yadda yadda. Once again, this story takes place between the first and second episodes of season five.**_

_**I hope this chapter makes you laugh. ^^**_

**Chapter One**

Dr. Temperance Brennan leaned over a set of clean white bones, the articles just having been stripped of flesh by some of Hodgins's insects. Her partner, FBI agent Seeley Booth, was standing beside her, pretending to look interested in the skeleton while staring into space.

"Booth? Booth! Are you even listening to me?" Brennan snapped, waving her hand in front of his dreary face. "I believe that what I'm trying to tell you will assist in catching the murderer!"

"Murderer?" Booth repeated sleepily after finishing off his coffee. "Wait, which--"

The FBI agent stumbled back, alarmed, as Brennan's palm made hard contact with his face. Cam walked in at that moment, eyes wide. "Is there a problem, Dr. Brennan…?"

"Yes, there's a problem!" Booth interrupted, rubbing the red splotch on his right cheek. "Bones here just slapped me for no reason!"

"I was making sure that you were alert and awake," Brennan grumbled as she turned her back to him. Facing Cam, she asked, "Has Angela completed the facial reconstruction yet?"

"Um—"

"Don't get all business-like _now!"_ Booth scolded. "Why in the hell did you hit me? You know, I could arrest you for assaulting an FBI agent."

"Go ahead," Brennan said nonchalantly, her back still to Booth.

Cam backed out of the room slowly, retreating into the hall where a cluster of amused and equally confused spectators had accumulated. "I'm going to come back later. Like, at a better time." To the gathered throng, she shouted, "Move along, there's nothing to see!"

She clapped her hands. "Disperse!"

And so the crowd dispersed.

"Bones, do you want to explain to me what that was all about?" Booth growled, forcing his partner to make eye contact.

"You were asleep on your feet," Brennan replied bluntly. "I woke you up."

"Sure you did, Bones."

The anthropologist turned away from him and resumed her 'squinting.'

"Bones!" Booth sighed, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. He spoke more gently now, his expression sincere. "You're not acting like yourself today. Is something the matter?"

Brennan bit her bottom lip and averted her gaze from his. "Everything's fine, Booth. Will you please stop bothering me?"

"Not until you tell me the truth," Booth replied. "It's not like you to lose your temper like that. Seriously, why are you so worked up?"

_What is up with her today? _Booth wondered, scrutinizing Brennan's near-illegible countenance. _Did I say or do something? Oh, God. Was it because I said I loved her? Well, probably not. I covered that up—_

"I just don't feel well today, alright?" Brennan mumbled, turning back to her skeleton. "Now, what I was going to say is that there are post-mortem fractures on the parietal lobe of the skull, probably caused by a blunt weapon that struck roughly at a ninety- degree angle. The fracture is consistent with blows from wooden clubs or any item of the like."

Booth sighed and gently massaged his temples, making a mental note to return to the previous subject at a later date, perhaps when Brennan's ire had dwindled some. "Are there any further developments on the shot that killed our vic?"

Brennan nodded. "The micro fractures on the inside of the skull suggest that whoever shot the victim was a considerable distance away—say, fifty feet? They have to be an excellent marksman to have made such a shot."

Her FBI counterpart nodded slowly, drawing in the information. "I guess that narrows down the search, but we still have to ID our vic."

"Angela's on that. I expect she'll be done soon."

The pair shifted their attention to the sound of approaching footsteps. As if on cue, Angela arrived, waving a digital portrait in the air. "I've IDed the victim!"

She stopped in her tracks and gave Booth a quizzical look. "When did you get that giant bruise on your face?"

* * *

A black SUV with a government license plate pulled up at the entrance to the Maryland Rennaissance Festival. The festivities had been permitted to resume, contrary to all logic, after the owner coughed up some cash for the chief of county police.

The person at the wheel arched a brow. _Just you watch, _they thought. _There'll be more deaths._

A tall, darkly handsome man emerged from his vehicle. He wore a dark suit and a cocky grin; a loaded gun was in a holster that was secured above the thighs, and he clutched an FBI badge in one fist, inconspicuously displaying the gleaming entity to the investigators who were awaiting his arrival.

"Agent Booth!" somebody exclaimed elatedly. "We're so glad you made it. The name's Matt Griffin. I'm the deputy sheriff in these parts."

The men shook hands. "If you don't mind me asking, Agent Booth, where is Dr. Brennan?"

Agent Jared Booth stifled a laugh. "You're mistaking me with my brother. He asked me to come here to bring you and the director of this…"

His gaze swept across the tents and empty stalls. "… Fine facility important news."

"Why didn't he come himself?" Officer Matt demanded.

"I'm afraid that revealing himself would all too quickly reveal his identity," Jared explained in a hushed tone. With a wicked grin, he added, "My brother and his partner Dr. Temperance Brennan will be going undercover to find the killer."

* * *

"Who's idea was this, anyways?" Seeley Booth complained in his changing stall.

"Yours," Brennan replied from the adjacent stall. "You said, 'oh, let's go undercover so we can catch the killer, ' and here we are."

"Well, this isn't exactly what I had in mind about going undercover. Who'd ever have thought that the police would allow the festival to continue with this murder still unsolved?" Booth retorted. He grumbled something obscene. "Well, I guess it's all about the money these days, what with the economy and all..."

His partner said nothing and glanced into the mirror on the wall. With a groan, she adjusted her new outfit: a blue renaissance-style dress with a corset that squeezed her like an anaconda and a neckline so low she felt bare.

"Are you sure we can't carry out the investigation as usual?" Brennan managed to ask, finding it hard to speak and even breathe now that she had on her tight garments.

"The killer has gotten away with two other murders since Saturday; both of the victims were staff members of the Fair. If we're going to catch this guy, we've got to blend in with the crowd. Otherwise we'll be way too conspicuous and he'll just disappear into the background again." Booth stared at his own reflection with a look of sheer terror.

"Attention!" said a voice on the intercom. "Halloween Depot will be closing in fifteen minutes."

Brennan drew in a deep breath and opened the door of her changing stall. Booth showed himself promptly, his appearance startling raucous laughter from Brennan. She doubled over, face red, tears in the corners of her eyes. It took her a few minutes to regain composure before she could manage a straight face while sizing up Booth's wardrobe. He donned a purple-and-yellow checkered hose that stuck to his legs so tightly that every crease and bulge was clearly visible. His puffy shirt was also yellow, and his tunic was a deep purple that contrasted the other, lighter hue. Last but not least, a checkered hat with jingly bells adorned his head, which in turn matched his slip-on boots that bore a jingly bell each from a curled tassel that rose above the toes.

"I'm a renaissance_ clown!"_ Booth whined, looking down at his clothes. "Bones, just kill me now."

"Why? I'm enjoying the view," drawled a familiar voice. Angela strode forward to stand beside Brennan.

"Ange, what are you doing here?" Brennan asked, her query barely more than a surprised squeak.

"Well, I heard that you got a job as a kissing wench and that Booth got a job as a court jester for your undercover assignment. I simply couldn't help but come and see you for myself." Angela pulled two sheets of paper from her purse. "Here's the other two victims. Their names are Ronald Goldman and Amy Miller. Ronald was the king's fool and Amy was the kissing wench. You two are filling in their positions, as I'm sure you're already aware."

"Don't remind us." Booth's voice was dripping with self-pity, a tone which earned laughter from his female companions.

Angela smirked and suddenly produced a camera from her handbag too quickly for Brennan or Booth to react. "Smile!"

The partners blinked in surprise when they heard a click and saw a brief, albeit blinding, flash of bright light. "That's a keeper! See you later, Bren."

With that, Angela flounced off merrily.

"Jesus," Booth muttered. "As if our predicament weren't bad enough, she had to get herself a little memento to show to us when we're through with the case."

_**Praise and constructive criticism are both welcome, especially the latter. (I am aware that Brennan was slightly OOC, and yes, it was on purpose.)**_

**_Keep checking in for developments. I hope to get the second chapter up in a week or two. =)_**


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